Darkness
by Iejasu
Many thanks to my proofreader Llarian! I really owe her!
Chapter 6 - Teachings
Snape stared at the sleeping form.
Hermione Granger had been a muggle born. She had the unique ability to combine
muggle techniques with those of the wizarding world.
Until now he had avoided any form of communication apart from
giving orders and she had learned to obey. Now it was time to instil some sort
of intimacy.Her mind was still quick and longed for information. That was an
addiction, too. He had forbidden her to touch his books and had punished her
severely when she had overstepped her boundaries. Snape suspected that she would
keep some of the scars. The outcome justified the means.
Looking down into his glass he smirked. The outcome justifies the means should be
a Slytherin motto. Machiavelli had been a Slytherin to the bone, as well as the
Borgia. In fact the Snape's, or better, the Italian branch of his once powerful family,
the Piton, were descendants of Cesare Borgia.
The heir to the glory of the Borgia resided within the rubble and decay of the past.
His eyes trailed over her body, monitoring her breath.
His pet project, his cat. By watching her closely he had
realised that she would be more than glad to leave her old
persona behind.
Hermione Granger had betrayed everything she believed in.
Hermione Granger had been humiliated.
Hermione Granger had been too weak.
The being in front of him had learned to obey his wishes.
The being in front of him had learned not to question him, both out of fear and out
of a strange sort of trust.
He bent down to her and gently coaxed her back to consciousness. "Miss Granger, wake up."
He gently released her bonds and rubbed her arms back to life. She looked up to
him, not fighting.
He had to take the risk of taking her outside. He had resurrected the spells surrounding
the Quidditch Pitch. Nobody would come close to it without him noticing.
He dragged the girl, clad in school uniform, towards the pitch, past the burst stones
covered with weed. At first she did not fight him, but after a while she became afraid,
trying to struggle against his vicelike grip. He turned and slapped her.
"You will come with me. I want to show you something!"
After that bark she walked behind him like a puppet, knowing that nothing would
prevent what was coming.
They entered the pitch together.
With the mocking version of a grand gesture he presented her the vast field, covered
with bones and rags.
"These children were brave. They fought and did not run away. Some of the first years
even tried to fight adult death eaters with their pitiful wingardium leviosa. Still,
they fought...." Snape noticed with a little astonishment that his chest still
tightened when he thought of that battle, but his features as well as
his voice stayed calm and aloof, like it had been back when he was giving lectures.
He could see the impact of his words. Hermione Granger started to cry helplessly,
covering her eyes with the heels of her hands, trying to turn away from the sight.
He grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her hard until he could hear her teeth rattle.
"No, you will not close your eyes. You will face this!"
He shoved her down to the ground, gripping the back of her neck and pushing her face
right into the dirt, a grinning skull looking up to her. Hermione screamed and started
to struggle with renewed strength.
"You have killed them! You have left them to die! The head girl should have been the
one protecting the small ones, but you have been weak. Hermione Granger was a weak and
low mud blood, someone who was bound to break under stress and run away."
Hermione sobbed helplessly kneeling in the dust, her body rocking and muttering a helpless
"Yes...yes..."
He yanked her head up, forcing her to face him.
"Do you want to become strong? Do you want to pay them back?"
His voice had become a soft purr.
The voice was almost broken when she answered him.
"Yes....yes...make me strong....help me....please, Professor."
He could see the guilt and the shame in her eyes.
Her soul was pleading for an end of the pain.
"I can help you kill Hermione Granger, make you a new witch. Someone who will never
be a coward again. Someone the others will fear. Someone who is able to protect the
little ones. But you have to trust me completely, you have to do whatever I say, no
matter how terrible, no matter how atrocious. I will teach you everything I know. I
will keep nothing from you and you will be my apprentice and one day you will be my
successor. Do you want that?" He was breathing hard now.
Was this not so much more than any vow for eternal love? To him it was more. He was
offering everything he was for the price of her soul. But being a Slytherin he had
made sure that the outcome would be what he wanted it to be.
A glimmer of hope appeared in the eyes of the kneeling girl, her breath came heavy
and she looked up at the dark wizard.
"Yes, Professor....yes.....please....teach me....help me."
Snape knelt down in the dust and stared into her eyes, long and hard. With great care
he dried her tears with his hand and stroked a lock of her unruly hair away from her
forehead.
In a calm and serene voice he spoke the ancient ritual that declared her his heir
and apprentice.
Hermione Granger hardly breathed anymore as he gently leaned forward and graced her
brow with the faintest of kisses. Like a drowning child she held onto his slim form,
sobbing into the folds of his robe and his slim hands stroke her like a father, gently
and full of care.
Looking past her shoulder his cold eyes betrayed his gentleness as a thin smile
appeared on his pale features. Hermione finally belonged to him, body and soul.
******
Some weeks later.
"A quick knife is faster than any killing curse." His voice was no different from
back when he taught in class. Only the subjects were vastly different. His deserted
potions classroom was now the place to learn totally different subjects. Some of
them dealt with potions, but most of them dealt with a wide range, both muggle and
wizarding knowledge. Weapons, martial arts, psychology, anatomy, wards and spells
for surveillance techniques and undercover investigation, special forms of the obliviate,
poisons, poison protection.
But he also taught her proper etiquette among old wizarding families, dancing and what
was considered appropriate. Witches Weekly was among the teaching material he was
using. She had to learn to pose as a perfect pureblood witch of impeccable upbringing
to get into the right circles.
He would wake her in the middle of the night, beating her and asking her questions.
She had to be able to keep up with her performance even half asleep. The one time
she slipped, the punishment had been long and extremely painful, a lecture of pain
endurance in itself. Something he did not enjoy but never the less found necessary.
Torture and their devices were also part of the curriculum. The knowledge would make
her more aware of any flaws. Occasionally he rewarded her for her progress by allowing
her limited access to his books. Then she would walk up to the bookshelves with the
eyes of a child seeing the Christmas tree for the very first time.
He stepped behind the dummy and demonstrated how to slash a throat with minimum effort.
On the dummy certain spots were marked. The areas that would instil instant death, those
that would render a victim helpless and those that would inflict maximum pain.
Hermione Granger sat erect, taking in every word her said. She had learned not to
interrupt.
Calmly he stepped back from the dummy, allowing her to practice.
TBC......
by Iejasu
Many thanks to my proofreader Llarian! I really owe her!
Chapter 6 - Teachings
Snape stared at the sleeping form.
Hermione Granger had been a muggle born. She had the unique ability to combine
muggle techniques with those of the wizarding world.
Until now he had avoided any form of communication apart from
giving orders and she had learned to obey. Now it was time to instil some sort
of intimacy.Her mind was still quick and longed for information. That was an
addiction, too. He had forbidden her to touch his books and had punished her
severely when she had overstepped her boundaries. Snape suspected that she would
keep some of the scars. The outcome justified the means.
Looking down into his glass he smirked. The outcome justifies the means should be
a Slytherin motto. Machiavelli had been a Slytherin to the bone, as well as the
Borgia. In fact the Snape's, or better, the Italian branch of his once powerful family,
the Piton, were descendants of Cesare Borgia.
The heir to the glory of the Borgia resided within the rubble and decay of the past.
His eyes trailed over her body, monitoring her breath.
His pet project, his cat. By watching her closely he had
realised that she would be more than glad to leave her old
persona behind.
Hermione Granger had betrayed everything she believed in.
Hermione Granger had been humiliated.
Hermione Granger had been too weak.
The being in front of him had learned to obey his wishes.
The being in front of him had learned not to question him, both out of fear and out
of a strange sort of trust.
He bent down to her and gently coaxed her back to consciousness. "Miss Granger, wake up."
He gently released her bonds and rubbed her arms back to life. She looked up to
him, not fighting.
He had to take the risk of taking her outside. He had resurrected the spells surrounding
the Quidditch Pitch. Nobody would come close to it without him noticing.
He dragged the girl, clad in school uniform, towards the pitch, past the burst stones
covered with weed. At first she did not fight him, but after a while she became afraid,
trying to struggle against his vicelike grip. He turned and slapped her.
"You will come with me. I want to show you something!"
After that bark she walked behind him like a puppet, knowing that nothing would
prevent what was coming.
They entered the pitch together.
With the mocking version of a grand gesture he presented her the vast field, covered
with bones and rags.
"These children were brave. They fought and did not run away. Some of the first years
even tried to fight adult death eaters with their pitiful wingardium leviosa. Still,
they fought...." Snape noticed with a little astonishment that his chest still
tightened when he thought of that battle, but his features as well as
his voice stayed calm and aloof, like it had been back when he was giving lectures.
He could see the impact of his words. Hermione Granger started to cry helplessly,
covering her eyes with the heels of her hands, trying to turn away from the sight.
He grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her hard until he could hear her teeth rattle.
"No, you will not close your eyes. You will face this!"
He shoved her down to the ground, gripping the back of her neck and pushing her face
right into the dirt, a grinning skull looking up to her. Hermione screamed and started
to struggle with renewed strength.
"You have killed them! You have left them to die! The head girl should have been the
one protecting the small ones, but you have been weak. Hermione Granger was a weak and
low mud blood, someone who was bound to break under stress and run away."
Hermione sobbed helplessly kneeling in the dust, her body rocking and muttering a helpless
"Yes...yes..."
He yanked her head up, forcing her to face him.
"Do you want to become strong? Do you want to pay them back?"
His voice had become a soft purr.
The voice was almost broken when she answered him.
"Yes....yes...make me strong....help me....please, Professor."
He could see the guilt and the shame in her eyes.
Her soul was pleading for an end of the pain.
"I can help you kill Hermione Granger, make you a new witch. Someone who will never
be a coward again. Someone the others will fear. Someone who is able to protect the
little ones. But you have to trust me completely, you have to do whatever I say, no
matter how terrible, no matter how atrocious. I will teach you everything I know. I
will keep nothing from you and you will be my apprentice and one day you will be my
successor. Do you want that?" He was breathing hard now.
Was this not so much more than any vow for eternal love? To him it was more. He was
offering everything he was for the price of her soul. But being a Slytherin he had
made sure that the outcome would be what he wanted it to be.
A glimmer of hope appeared in the eyes of the kneeling girl, her breath came heavy
and she looked up at the dark wizard.
"Yes, Professor....yes.....please....teach me....help me."
Snape knelt down in the dust and stared into her eyes, long and hard. With great care
he dried her tears with his hand and stroked a lock of her unruly hair away from her
forehead.
In a calm and serene voice he spoke the ancient ritual that declared her his heir
and apprentice.
Hermione Granger hardly breathed anymore as he gently leaned forward and graced her
brow with the faintest of kisses. Like a drowning child she held onto his slim form,
sobbing into the folds of his robe and his slim hands stroke her like a father, gently
and full of care.
Looking past her shoulder his cold eyes betrayed his gentleness as a thin smile
appeared on his pale features. Hermione finally belonged to him, body and soul.
******
Some weeks later.
"A quick knife is faster than any killing curse." His voice was no different from
back when he taught in class. Only the subjects were vastly different. His deserted
potions classroom was now the place to learn totally different subjects. Some of
them dealt with potions, but most of them dealt with a wide range, both muggle and
wizarding knowledge. Weapons, martial arts, psychology, anatomy, wards and spells
for surveillance techniques and undercover investigation, special forms of the obliviate,
poisons, poison protection.
But he also taught her proper etiquette among old wizarding families, dancing and what
was considered appropriate. Witches Weekly was among the teaching material he was
using. She had to learn to pose as a perfect pureblood witch of impeccable upbringing
to get into the right circles.
He would wake her in the middle of the night, beating her and asking her questions.
She had to be able to keep up with her performance even half asleep. The one time
she slipped, the punishment had been long and extremely painful, a lecture of pain
endurance in itself. Something he did not enjoy but never the less found necessary.
Torture and their devices were also part of the curriculum. The knowledge would make
her more aware of any flaws. Occasionally he rewarded her for her progress by allowing
her limited access to his books. Then she would walk up to the bookshelves with the
eyes of a child seeing the Christmas tree for the very first time.
He stepped behind the dummy and demonstrated how to slash a throat with minimum effort.
On the dummy certain spots were marked. The areas that would instil instant death, those
that would render a victim helpless and those that would inflict maximum pain.
Hermione Granger sat erect, taking in every word her said. She had learned not to
interrupt.
Calmly he stepped back from the dummy, allowing her to practice.
TBC......